


The Least Qualified To Save The World

by iprocrastinateterribly



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dungeons and Dragons AU, Multi, also might change the rating based on how graphic things get, and the ships are yet to come dont you worry child, its gonna be gay up in this fic, this is so heavily based off dnd yall but it'll still be understandable i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-07-03 22:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iprocrastinateterribly/pseuds/iprocrastinateterribly
Summary: A small, ragtag, found-family group of adventurers only wanted to make a name for themselves. You know, a little fame to make life a little more fun, maybe get some coin and retire in a modest castle. What they didn't expect was to find more family, if you can call life-long friends that wont admit they're in love, the loudest couple in the world, a pair of shy lovers, a strained love triangle and a crazy foreigner a family. (Seungcheol is adamant you can)What they really didn't want was to be forced to save the whole damn empire.Who the hell thought this was a good idea?





	1. An Awful Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Gods and race descriptions will be in the end notes for reference :)

“This plan is fucking _awful_ ,” complained a black robed figure as he dragged an unconscious, naked human. He pulled the body behind a pile of crates and threw it onto two more bodies, a halfling and another human. A taller robed person smacked the shorter upside the head, making his dark brown hair stick up like a duck tail. “Firstly, kid, your plan was even **worse**. Secondly, watch your fucking language, Chan.”

The tallest of the three men grabbed both bickering parties and yanked them backwards so that their heads were on either side of his, pulled his robe’s hood back slightly and said in a dangerously low voice “Seungcheol. Chan. This plan is a pin drop away from being a suicide mission and if you two don’t talk quietly we will literally die.” 

Seungcheol pulled away from Mingyu’s grasp and turned to the two younger members of his motley crew. “You’re all quick to point out your **leader’s** -” Seungcheol’s eyes were wide as he stressed this information his younger party members seem to be ignoring, “flaws, but have my plans ever killed you?”

“Chan’s been in jail five times and he hasn’t even turned eighteen.” 

“I’m eighteen in a month though!” Chan was fast to interject. Seungcheol pushed past his brother and Mingyu to look at Jihoon; who donned dark, form-fitting leather armour, sitting lazily in a rafter as he dipped a dagger into a small, half-empty blue bottle. “The second time wasn’t-”

“Mingyu had to have his thumb magically re-grown over the course of 4 months.” 

Mingyu shifted uncomfortably, curling his fingers into a fist over his left thumb as a reflex.

“He’s got a thumb now, doesn’t h-?”

“ _and_ just last month, you fell three stories. The only thing that saved you from meeting the Raven Queen herself, was a massive pile of fresh horse shit.” Jihoon slid the blue bottle from his maroon hand into one of the many pouches along his belt.

Seungcheol huffed, his lips pursing and his eyes narrowing. Jihoon stood up and stepped off the rafter, landing on the ground of the supply room they were hiding in, with silent steps. He stood with his thin tail swishing side to side, adjusting the leather bracer on his right arm.

He was a short distance in front of Seungcheol, who couldn’t help but look at what remained of the shorter’s curled horns, poking out from his messy blond locks. “..But you are right. Your plans have not killed us thus far. Plus, there’s hasn’t been any horse shit, as far as I’ve seen. So, if you kids will stop bickering, I say we have some cultists to murder, don’t we?”

Seungcheol felt a warmth spread throughout his chest, a smile threatening to crack on his face. Even Mingyu’s shoulders seemed to have straightened with a sense of pride. He’d known Jihoon long enough to know that this was a declaration of support, even if it had started out listing everything he had done wrong in the past year and a half.

“Plus,” Jihoon glanced up at them, his sharp pupil-less silver eyes thinning into crescents as he smiled, “if things go to shit, I’ll slip out and tell the stories of our heroic deeds in honour of your deaths.” 

Mingyu sighed, his form crumpling slightly. 

“Thanks, Jihoon,” Chan replied monotonously. 

Jihoon walked past them and put his ear to the door. “No offense but,” Mingyu started in a low volume, grinning as he crouched down to Jihoon’s eye-level, his abnormally long canines glinting, “don’t you think someone with good hearing should listen at the door, Jihoonie?”

The small boy blinked, face devoid of expression, before opening his palm and swiftly jabbing into the other boy’s ribs. Before Mingyu’s pained yelp could get them discovered, Jihoon wrapped his hand over Mingyu’s mouth, placed his leg behind the tall bastard and pushed. Next thing Mingyu knew, he was on the ground with Jihoon looming over him.  
Possessing half demon blood, tieflings tend to be terrifying in nature. Having one almost on top of you, snarling with ivory teeth sharply contrasted against wine red skin can be the fuel of many, many nightmares for the common man. At least it could if Mingyu didn’t end up in this position on the regular. 

“How many times do I have to tell you, Furball?”

Mingyu’s eyes were slightly out focus, a groan slipping through the fingers still clamped on his mouth. Seungcheol was about to reprimand them, until they heard approaching footsteps.

Jihoon jumped up, sprinting to the boxes that were being used to conceal the three sleeping, naked cultists. Using them as leverage, he jumped back into the rafter. The three robed men barely had time to compose themselves before the door swung open, hitting Mingyu in the face.

“Is anybod- Oh no! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” a young human girl stood in the doorway, wearing the same robes that they had stolen. Seungcheol guessed she couldn’t be much older than seventeen. His heart suddenly constricted. Just how many children are in this building? At least they didn’t go with Jihoon’s idea of blowing the place up.

Mingyu grunted somewhat affirmatively, his one hand covering his nose and the other in his raven black hair, holding his head. This was not part of the plan. Seungcheol could feel Chan looking at him. “Hello, sorry,” he moved forward, putting on his best smile. Usually Mingyu’s their go-to charmer, but since the pup’s been incapacitated… “I’m really sorry. We’re new, uh, recruits!”

The girl looked sceptical, her dark, almost black, brown eyes searching him.

“We came in here to quickly change, and we were about to go out to find someone to help us find our way around.” Seungcheol grabbed Mingyu from under the arms and hauled him up.

“Yes, can you please help us?” Chan moved to Seungcheol’s side, his voice pleading as he leaned towards the girl.

Her cheeks immediately went red and she began to sputter. “Well, I mean, I should probably go and, uh, find High Priest Jenalyn, and um, let them help y-”

Chan quickly stepped toward her “We don’t want to bother the High Priest with something so trivial as this. Don’t you think it’d be easier if you helped us? We were told we’d get to see how things work here.” He smiled at her widely, placing his hand lightly on her arm, “I’d really like to see this place with you… I mean, all of us would.”

 _Wow_ , Seungcheol thought, _the killing blow_. 

The girl visibly swallowed, her pale face almost as red as Jihoon’s natural skin. She tucked a piece of her long black hair behind her ear with a slightly shaky hand before she spoke “I- I guess it would probably be best to not bother the High Priest.” Her voice started wavering again when all three boys smiled at her. “S-So, um, I guess I can, uh, show you around for a short while.” She turned around and started walking slowly, Chan half running to catch up and walk along her right side. _Sly bastard_ , Seungcheol’s lips curled at the corners.

Seungcheol glanced back to the rafter and Jihoon moved his hands, using the sign language they’d come up with over the years. The sign meant: _that was fucking close_.

 

The three boys followed the young cultist throughout the cold stone tower. They learned that her name was Rosemary. She nearly choked when Chan asked her if he could call her Rosie. She showed them the kitchens, barracks and the washroom in the half broken abandoned guard tower the cultists had moved into. Chan hadn’t stopped talking to her since they left the tiny supply room, leaving Mingyu and Seungcheol uninhibited to scope all the rooms thoroughly.

He figured there couldn’t be more than 10 cultists living here. And looking at the religious symbols scattered around the rooms, he picked up that they worship a god he doesn’t know of. The markings showed a broken hourglass pouring sand on a skull. Did that possibly mean it was a god of time? Or maybe a god that defied time? 

Seungcheol also came to suddenly realize that they hadn’t actually seen any other cultists. “Rosemary, where is everyone?” 

She turned to look at him, looking slightly annoyed that her conversation with the boy she, at this point, undoubtedly considered her future husband had been interrupted.  
“They’re all down in the sacrifice room, of course. It’s a full moon,” she quickly replied, in a matter-of-factly tone. 

Seungcheol was so glad she had swiftly whipped around to talk to Chan again, missing how wide Mingyu’s eyes had gone.  
Mingyu held Seungcheol back, so that they were just a little out of earshot of the younger ones. “Animal sacrifice? Follower sacrifice? Or civilian?”

“I know just as much as you do,” he hissed back. 

They needed to get into that chamber. His mind was racing with ways he could try to convince Rosemary to get them there, but it screeched to a halt almost immediately as Chan opened his naïve mouth. “Can we go in there, too?”

He watched the exchange between the Chan and Rosemary. Surely, it wouldn’t be that easy. 

“Do you promise to behave?” she asked shyly, looking into Chan’s eyes. 

Seungcheol felt very bad for her in that moment. Chan’s smile widened; and if she knew him, she would’ve known that grin was almost an evil omen.

He put his hand over his heart, “I promise, Rosie.” 

She let out a delighted giggle. Poor girl didn’t see the other hand behind his back. She led them down some dingy stairs, her voice now becoming a whisper whilst she still talked  
to Chan; Mingyu and Seungcheol couldn’t hear their conversation anymore. The further down they went, the more tense the men got.

Mingyu placed his hand on their leader’s shoulder and closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head to face behind them. When he opened his eyes, he nodded. Jihoon was following them. They started to hear murmuring voices. Rosemary had stopped talking completely. They reached a wooden door and Rosemary reached for the handle. She quickly  
turned to them with her finger up to her lips, turning back to the door to quietly push it open. 

Seungcheol scoped out the place as fast as he could. A broken hourglass sat in every corner of the room. There were red candles sitting in sconces and in a large chandelier in the centre of the chamber, illuminating the room, creating flickering shadows everywhere. In the centre of the room, there was a large, rectangular, ornately carved podium,  
surrounded by about twenty robed figures. None of the figures turned when they entered, and they probably could’ve stayed unnoticed, if the sacrifice had stayed quiet.

The sacrifice on the podium lifted his head when they came in, his long shining black hair covering one side of his face. His thin almond eyes crinkled as he gracefully smiled, his elvish features sharp and glowing, even with the low lighting. He laughed. _How can he be laughing?_ In his peripheral vision Seungcheol could see Mingyu looking from his group member to the elf on the podium. 

“Even more of you? Amazing! How many are actually in your…uh… organization,” he looked chuffed to have found that word, “mister priest person?” the apparent sacrifice’s accent betrayed that he wasn’t a native common speaker. But Seungcheol stopped paying attention to him, since every cultist in the room had turned to them.

Rosemary cleared her throat. “These are the new initiates, High Priest. I brought them to watch the blood ceremony.” 

Seungcheol heard Mingyu sigh.

A drow dressed in more ornate robes than the rest stepped forward; their voice high, airy and authoritative. “There are no such initiates.”

Seungcheol walked forward two steps, looking the drow in the eyes with a smirk. “That’s right. We’ve come to kill every last one of you bastards.”

Jihoon’s crossbow bolt whistled past Seungcheol’s ear, and into the chest of the High Priest. And then, things got a bit hairy.


	2. Avalanche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cultists versus adventurers.

He was so hoping Seungcheol could defuse the situation. **So. fucking. hoping.** Jihoon gritted his teeth, hastily loading another crossbow bolt as chaos erupted. _Four,_ he fired the bolt into the crowd of cultists, _against over twenty._ Seungcheol ripped his black robe off and drew his great sword from its leather sheath on his back. He didn't look back as he charged into the dark mass of enemies. Jihoon’s mind worked quickly, desperately trying to figure out how they could get through this. Seungcheol might be the reliable and confident leader, but he was the brain.

The agile tiefling ducked into the room, running low, keeping to the edges and snuffing candelabra lights out with sharp hand motions. Stopping in a crouch in the corner he surveyed the room again. Chan had his short swords in both hands as he danced around the cultists. Whipping the weapons through the air, he removed unlucky appendages and sliced open gashes to the melody of ragged screams. His movements were not filled with raw power like Seungcheol, but with a kind of grace and deadly preciseness. Mingyu’s war pick’s wickedly sharp hook was already embedded in a gurgling cultist’s chest, and Jihoon noted that the taller boy’s form had already changed. His ears had gotten pointier, his canines sharper and his fingernails had grown to points. With a snarl he ripped the pick out, kicking the falling body into the surging crowd swarming the close combat fighters.

Jihoon watched the cultists as they pulled shabby swords and ceremonial daggers from under their cloaks as they descended on his three party members. _Okay, they’re not magic users, but this is still very, **very** bad._

A glint of light from the centre of the room caught his eye. He saw a long, wicked, silver dagger lifting into the air, being held by the dark skinned, androgynous high priest. Blood poured in a steady stream from between their fingers as they clutched the bolt embedded in their chest with one hand; with the other they held the intricately carved weapon above the elf sitting on the sacrificial podium. The elf had his back turned to the priest, looking as though he was just about to take off the white ceremonial robe that he had been put in, with no idea he was about to be slaughtered. Jihoon dropped his crossbow, sprinted across the room and sprang towards the podium. He kicked the elf off the podium, who gave a high pitched yelp, and as quick as a whip he drew a dagger of his own from his belt. Jihoon lunged at the drow priest, but his enemy swiftly stepped to the side, making him lurch forwards and tumble from the podium. He deftly rolled on the ground and sprang back up to attack but he could only hiss as the priest’s dagger sunk into his shoulder, scraping against bone and cutting through muscle.

“You think you can defeat us, demon child?” the priest’s voice was no longer airy, it was ragged and maniacal. Their completely white eyes were wide and their deep purple, gaunt face seemed contorted as they spoke “, We are the followers of a god long forgotten, a god only we can bring back,” their voice was growing louder and louder, the blood that trickled out their mouth spraying from their lips “,a god that will help outcasts rule society, a god that will bring us justice.”

Jihoon threw a dagger at him, but the pain made him slow, and the priest dodged it with ease. They walked closer, pulling the bolt from their body with a guttural grunt.

“You will not stop us, we have support you can’t even begin to comprehend,” The priest raised the bolt in their hand, voice becoming thunderous in the moderately sized chamber, blood from their chest wound falling like morbid confetti, “You and your pathetic friends and that insane elf will be our sacrifices tonight, I hope you will feel the grace of-”

The priest stopped. They looked down. A scimitar point had appeared in the middle of their torso. Blood bloomed around the point, making the black robe shine like a poisonous snake's skin.

Their mouth was agape; a small waterfall of red pouring down their chin. The point disappeared and the elf that Jihoon had kicked off the podium walked around from behind the priest; his steps were light and nonchalant. He stopped in front of his attempted murderer, his arms hanging by his sides. Crimson dripped from the scimitar he held in his right hand. His voice was quiet and serious, face devoid of the childish curiosity it had shown earlier. “Pride and greed are much more vicious killers than even you. Know that they killed you, not me.”

The drow’s swaying body went slack, and they fell forwards, their head hitting the concrete with a sickening wet thwack. The elf paused for only a second, staring at the dead priest with a stone like expression, before flicking his eyes up to Jihoon. For a short moment Jihoon thought he was next, especially when the elf took two long steps towards him and wrapped his hand around the dagger embedded in his Jihoon’s, yanked it out and pushed his other hand down on the throbbing wound.

However, before Jihoon could even react, his pain left him. He looked down to see a soft golden light emanating from under the elf’s palm as healing energy seeped into his chest. Jihoon looked back up at the elf, his mouth opening and closing in shock. The elf just smiled widely at him as he took Jihoon’s hands and wrapped them around the hilt of the weapon that was in his torso a second ago. The elf then took a step back, still smiling, and said in his weirdly upbeat voice he had first spoken to them in: “Your friends are going to die without you.”

It was at that moment a scream filled the chamber. Jihoon whipped around to see Rosie barreling towards him.

 “ **How could you**.” She threw herself at Jihoon, her dull old dagger flying wildly. Her armature moves weren’t hard for him to get out of the way of, but he was hesitant. He can’t kill a child.

“ **I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you and I’ll bring back the old one and he’ll bring back everyone and we’ll kill you all!** ” She kept swinging and Jihoon kept moving. He just needs a single opening.

“ **I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you I­** -” He grabbed her wrist, and giving a tight twist brought her close. With one short agile move he cracked the blunt end of his dagger against the child’s skull. She crumpled, Jihoon almost falling with her as he tried to slow her fall.

Jihoon had only a second to breath before he heard footfalls coming towards him. Her screams attracted attention; more cultists were rushing to Jihoon, weapons in hands and screaming bloody murder. He can’t fight a crowd. _Fuck, Jihoon get out of this, get out, get out, get_ ­- His vision went black. _I’m dead? I didn’t even feel anything_ , but he could still hear fighting, and then terrified screams. He backed up and saw that he wasn’t dead, but directly in front of him was a massive, midnight black panther. It turned its head to him, and Jihoon recognised the warm dark chestnut eyes; the elf’s eyes. _Oh. druid._ Jihoon stood shocked, but the sound of Chan crying out snapped him from his temporary  paralysis.

The panther turned from him and jumped towards the cultists that had tried to swarm Jihoon. They screamed some more as razor sharp claws ripped them to shreds, and knife-like teeth sunk into their necks. Jihoon, however, ignored this. He jumped on top of the sacrificial podium to get a better view of his party’s attackers. His three party members were back to back to back. Chan was holding a sword in his left hand; his right hand was pressed to his abdomen as dark liquid dribbled through his fingers. _There’s no way to kill them all, we’re already struggling, I won’t last in the fray, I left my crossbow behind_ , thought after thought raced through the tieflings mind as he charged towards the crowd, despite knowing it was going to probably kill him. _What can we do, fuck, fuck,_ he cut the Achilles tendon of a cultist, slitting their throat as they fell. The cultists around him then turned their attention to him, slashing and stabbing. He winced as he felt a knife cut through some flesh on his arm, his weaving not enough to face these cultists alone. _We need to get out, and leave them behind somehow, we have to-_

His eyes widened, his mind screeching to a halt, locked onto an idea. He dislodged himself from the crowd, being punished as he left them with a long gash on his back. He couldn’t help but cry out, but he kept going. The panther was trying to fight against several cultists and more were joining. They have to do it now. Jihoon quickly changed his course, running back to the podium. He grabbed the unconscious Rosie, dragging her with him as fast as he could.

“Elf! Hey you furry bastard!” Jihoon threw his last dagger into the back of one of the cultists, causing them to crumple. The panther turned to him for a second, and a cultist used the split second to stab him in the leg. A ragged yowl escaped his mouth as he slashed the offender who flew into the wall with a thump. _He’s listening at least_.

“You can bring stone roofs down, right?” The panther’s ears flicked upright, his body going rigid like a cat spotting a lonely bird. He leapt to the wall to his left, bounding off it straight towards Jihoon.  Jihoon feared for his life for a second, but the panther stopped next to him, leaning low in an obvious ‘get on’ motion. The small tiefling jumped up, hauling the girl with him. The panther gave an annoyed growl.

“She’s a child.” Jihoon said sharply. The panther then jumped towards the swarm of cultists. There was screaming and shouting as the giant cat simply landed atop them, causing confusion and falling.  Seungcheol and Chan started to fall back but Mingyu turned around and held them up like a wall. They looked into the panther’s face, their own blood streaked faces turning pale, but once they saw Jihoon atop the large cat, panic turned to confusion.

Using the opportunity a sword slid across Mingyu’s back, and the boy’s rough scream felt like a knife in Jihoon's gut. Jihoon cupped his hands around his mouth; all he needed to say was one word but they had to hear it above the screaming, raging, and dying.

“ **Avalanche**.” Seungcheol’s furrowed brows arched, and he actually smiled. He quickly grabbed Chan and using all the strength he had left he threw his little brother back towards the exit. Chan crashed into the cultists that were behind them, but he scrambled over them. Mingyu had turned around and effectively used his sharpened nails to claw the face off the elderly man that had slashed him, before he too bolted towards the exit with Chan making sure to stomp the cultists that had fallen over whilst swinging his massive weapon to keep the enemies from going near him during his retreat. Seungcheol followed Mingyu, following suit and trying to take as many out as he could.

The panther leapt over the crowd, morphing mid-air back to an elf just as he got inside the doorway. No longer on a giant panther, Jihoon flew through the air, holding Rosie against him so she wouldn’t get hurt. He grunted as he hit the steps, feeling a rib crack. A female voice rung out over the crowd “Don’t let them escape! Kill them a-”

“I am sorry.” The elf's voice voice was strained. Only Jihoon heard him, and it sounded like he truly meant it. The elf swung his arms in a wide circle, bringing his palms together above his head, and then snapping them down towards the floor. It took only three seconds. Three incredibly loud, incredibly scary seconds for the whole chamber to cave in. Jihoon didn’t even hear any screams, and in the seconds that followed he could only hear the panting of his friends, himself and the elven druid. It was pitch-black; no torches were lit in the spiral stair case anymore. None of them moved for well over a minute. Jihoon’s mind continued to race, though. _They weren’t good, don’t feel bad, they deserved it-_ but Jihoon stopped himself right there, closing his eyes tightly.

_Did they?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta dah I wrote more, dunno when I'll write more again but i wanted to get this out.
> 
> Druid - A fighting class, magic users that are in touch with nature.  
> War Pick - a sweet ass weapon that looks like a pick axe but deadlier. Seriously google it.

**Author's Note:**

> Raven Queen - The goddess of life and death  
> Tiefling - Half demon, half human. They have horns of varying types, have solid colour iris's and tails 4-5 feet long. Can have normal human toned skin as well as non-human skin colours, ranging from red to blue to purple and so on.  
> Drow - Known as dark elves or night elves. A race of elf, usually found in the underdark (subterranean realm). Characterized but dark skin tones (black to grey to purple) and white hair.


End file.
